


Even the Darkness Has Arms

by Fastslayne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Emo Kylo Ren, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Rey gives him no play, Smut, What's a sad sith to do?, but also sad, kylo has no chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7106830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fastslayne/pseuds/Fastslayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s had enough of her fake protests, the lack of sincerity threatening to ruin the conquest for him, and decides it’s high time he shuts her up.  He pushes his lips against hers and swallows her words.</p><p>This was never supposed to be about talking, anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even the Darkness Has Arms

“Scavenger.”

  
She has her back to him, her shoulders hunched and head down. Both hands are curled around a tumbler of amber fluid, and her gaze is fixed on a solitary ice cube floating in the depths. The bar is loud, raucous around her, but she is calm, serene. She is like an island in a raging sea, and isn’t that appropriate for her? The irony of the comparison doesn’t escape him.

  
She doesn’t flinch, though he’s crowded around her and spoke almost directly into the shell of her ear, his lips a breath away from brushing the skin there. She doesn’t even raise her eyes from the ice she contemplates, and her response is equally cold.

 

“Monster.”

  
Yes. Her contempt is clear. It’s exactly what he wants.

  
He murmurs again into her ear. “You had to know I’d find you here. You had to know you couldn’t hide from me.”

  
“Of course I knew.”

  
She still hasn’t moved, still hasn’t raised her gaze. It’s not clear what she’s admitting to, and he finds he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need things to be clear for this little exercise. But he does need her to respond to him more than she is at the moment, and he finds himself becoming annoyed.

  
No matter. He can guide her.

  
He reaches around her shoulder and gently grasps her chin, turning her head to face him. He wants to see her eyes. She doesn’t balk at his touch, doesn’t fight, and when her eyes finally collide with his it takes her a long moment to remember that she shouldn’t be allowing him to touch her so easily. But then her expression changes from docile to fiery in instant, and it’s quick enough to make him forget that his scavenger should have more fight in her.

  
Her eyes are shooting sparks now and she hisses at him through clenched teeth.

  
“I didn’t say you could touch me.”

  
“You didn’t need to. You know I can see it all, scavenger. I know what you’re here for.”

  
“You’re an idiot. I’m here to kill you.”

She reaches up and wrenches his hand away from her chin, even as her other hand goes to her hip and grasps the hilt of her lightsaber. She is clumsy, though, her hand fumbles at her belt and he is much too quick for her. His large, gloved hand shoots out and traps her small one over the hilt of the weapon, pinning it to her side. Too easy, he thinks, but he pushes the thought aside. Any thoughts outside the present, and he won’t be able to enjoy this.

  
He has her trapped against the bar and she tries to push past him, to slip out through the open space between his chest and the arm caging her in, but not even she is slight enough to escape that way. He shifts his weight and takes a step forward, bringing them chest to chest, one body flush against the other. He can feel her rapid heartbeat and revels in the fact that she seems to be a bit afraid. It doesn’t seem right that she would be intimated by what is happening, but he doesn’t care. The scavenger has taken so much from him that he can’t help but pretend he’s balancing the scales.

Still, he tries to soothe her.

  
“Don’t be afraid. I feel it too.”

  
She shifts to look up at him, craning her neck to meet his gaze. The fear in her eyes retreats, and she shakes her head, belatedly realizing that those words are familiar to her. Then the fiery expression returns, and she spits her response back at him.

  
“You’ve said that to me before. Why don’t you stop being cryptic and tell me what you mean by it?”

  
He’s pleased. She remembered, and she knew exactly the right thing to say.

  
“You know what I mean, scavenger. You feel the pull, the temptation, as much as I do. Neither of us wanted this, but it’s inevitable. Inexorable.”

  
She scoffs at him, and does such a good job of it that he has to fight the urge to backhand her across the mouth.

  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What pull? The darkness doesn’t tempt me. You don’t tempt me.”

  
“There is no point in lying to me. I’ve felt you lurking in my head, scavenger. I know you’ve seen the dreams. I know you’ve had them yourself. I’ve felt you have them.” He continues to crowd her, to push forward as he speaks, and by the time he finishes the last sentence, his lips are almost touching hers.

  
She can’t get away from him, doesn’t even really seem to be trying, but she still feigns resistance. “No,” she says, “No, you’re wrong.”

  
He’s had enough of her fake protests, the lack of sincerity threatening to ruin the conquest for him, and decides it’s high time he shuts her up. He pushes his lips against hers and swallows her words.

  
This was never supposed to be about talking, anyways.

  
*********************************************************************************************

  
She is silent as he leads her back to the room he rented for the night, which suits him fine. He cannot imagine what they would actually have to say to each other at this point, now that the next step is inevitable. He is going to fuck her and she is going to let him.

  
He opens the door and ushers her into the room with little ceremony. The accommodations are adequate at best, nothing compared to the high standard he is accustomed to, but the space is clean and the bed appears sturdy, which is all he cares about. He certainly does not need to impress her; she is used to far worse.

  
She goes to stand in front of the bed and fidgets with the lapel of her grey vest, rubbing the coarse material back and forth between small, slim fingers. He’s seen her wearing that vest so many times in his head, he cannot imagine her in anything else.

  
“Rey.” She glances at him but then quickly looks away, still fidgeting. She looks at the ground, at the wall, anywhere but at the bed. Or at him.

  
Again, she seems nervous. Again, it doesn’t feel right. But again, he decides to push past it. The girl is doing the best she can under the circumstances.

  
“Rey,” he repeats, more sternly. “Rey, look at me.”

  
Slowly, she brings her eyes to his, and their gazes catch and lock. Her eyes are perfect, almond shaped and the color of toasted honey. They are the eyes he has seen in his dreams every night since the day they met.

  
He stares at her for a long time, longer than he intends. He’s hungry for her body but he can’t look away from her eyes. He wants to see so much more. He wants to see inside her, made all the more tempting because he knows he cannot. He should not.

  
Thankfully, she swallows and looks away, and he remembers himself. He had been close to dropping his mental shields and reaching for her Light, but this isn’t one of his dreams. The girl is real before him, all soft skin and gentle curves, and he is already too much a slave to this physical need as it is. Sating his lust will have to be enough.

  
With that that thought in mind, he gathers her against him and crushes her lips to his in a bruising kiss. He wastes no time and pushes his tongue into the soft cavern of her mouth, his hands threading into her hair. She had been gentle and sweet when he’d kissed her in the bar, melting under him with a sigh. But now she matches his ferocity, fervently kissing him back and rocking her hips into his.

  
He’s glad of her response. He wants to lose himself in the primal heat of the girl’s body as quickly as possible, before the yearning for more, for her Light and her soul, returns. He moves his mouth to the silky column of her neck and sucks, bites hard, leaving a necklace of red marks on her bronzed skin. He trails his lips further down and he pushes the kriffing grey vest aside to get at the small, firm breasts underneath.

  
She lets out a throaty moan when his mouth closes over her nipple, drawing the tender flesh into a hard, puckered point. He laves her breast, stroking over and over with his tongue, his hands gripping her waist so hard he knows he has to be hurting her. She does not seem to mind, but of course she doesn’t. She knows what she’s agreed to.

  
He keeps suckling until her nails are digging into his arms and she’s writhing underneath him, legs twisting and hips lifting, asking for more, demanding more. He thinks for a moment about drawing out her pleasure, about teasing her, about sliding a hand down and gently stroking her until she begs him for his tongue and his cock. He would love to see his scavenger’s eyes overcome with lust, would love to taste her and breathe her in and make her come so many times she forgets who she is—who he is.

  
But that is not what this is about. She is not his lover. There is no warmth here, no connection, he reminds himself. This is not beautiful. This is base and depraved and happening only because he is too weak to deny this terrible, consuming want any longer.

  
Remembering his own weakness enrages him, and he needs to be insider her, now. He roughly pushes his hand under the waist of her leggings, fingers plunging into damp heat even as he rubs the heel of his hand against her clit. She cries out, and again he knows he has to be hurting her but he’s beyond thinking of her pleasure. He’s confirmed she’s slick and wet, ready for him, and he will have her. His hands are at his belt, and he’s only vaguely aware that he hasn’t bother to remove his robe or his cowl. He’s fully covered, save for where his cock is now jutting forth from the opening in his pants. He hadn’t intended to stay dressed, but finds he prefers things this way. He needs to keep himself removed from what is happening. He needs the control. He needs the protection.

  
He swats her hands away as she reaches to pull his clothes off, stepping forward and lining himself up between her slick thighs. And then, he’s insider her, pushing in with all his need, his emptiness, his loneliness. He pours it into her, because shouldn’t the girl moaning underneath him understand? There can be nothing lonelier in all the galaxy than what she has done to survive.

  
She’s so slick and tight around him, her inner walls clenching and massaging his cock as he thrusts, and the pleasure is intense but it’s not enough. He drives into her harder, faster, slamming into her pelvis and hilting himself as far as he can go. It’s still not enough. He pulls her legs up and over his shoulders, thrusting so deep he can feel the head of his cock hitting her cervix. She moans and digs her fingers into the tops of his shoulders, her grip hard enough that he can feel the bite of her nails through the thick material of his cowl.

  
He thrusts again and again. She moans and clenches around him, again and again. But he’s plateaued. His peak eludes him and he growls in frustration. He pulls out and flips her over, grabs her hips and slams into her from behind. She’s so wet that he slides in easily, and her cries of pleasure at this new angle do nothing to bring him closer to the edge.

It’s hopeless. He knows what he needs to come, but he’s promised himself he wouldn’t do it. What’s happening now has to be enough. It has to be.

  
“Kylo…” she moans, her voice rough. “Kylo, yes, more. I know you need more. I want it. Please.”

  
And that’s it. Hearing those words from her, hearing her voice beg him, snaps his control. He drops his mental shield and reaches blindly for the bond, grasping furiously for the thread that ties their consciousness together. Then he has it, her Light, her warmth and her beautiful energy suffusing his essence, filling all the nasty dark cracks inside of him. Her Light cleanses him and it hurts, burns like acid in his veins even as the beginnings of his release shoot pleasure up his spine. He’s going to spill inside of her, fill her as full of himself as he is with her.

  
He’s so blinded by the burning pleasure of her Light and his release that he doesn’t notice her brush against his mind until it’s too late. Suddenly, she’s aware of him touching their bond, and then she’s there in his head and she’s seeing through his eyes. It’s only an instant, a heartbeat, but she’s there and she sees what’s happening. She sees what he’s done, and her horror chokes him to the point he can’t breathe.

It’s sick, he’s so incredibly sick, that this moment of suffocation is what tips him over the edge. His release shoots out of him even as her horror engulfs him.

  
The girl underneath him keens as she feels his seed fill her.

 

The girl in his head can’t seem to look away.

  
_Ben_ , she whispers in his head, _Ben._

 

_How could you, Ben?_

  
He wants to explain but he can’t. She wasn’t supposed to see this. She was never supposed to know how far he’d fallen.

  
_I…I needed you. It was driving me mad._ Can’t she understand?

  
_That’s not me. That will never be me._ He feels her pity wash over him, and it’s so much worse than the disgust she felt at what he’s done.

_Goodbye, Ben._

And like that, she’s gone. Their bond goes cold, and no matter how he grasps for her, she’s slipped away.

  
“Lord Ren?” The girl is still underneath of him, his cum dripping down her thighs. He pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants, zipping and snapping the placket closed with numb fingers.

  
Wordlessly, the girl gets up from the bed and begins collecting the clothes to dress herself.

  
He can’t bear to look at her. Her shape-shifting ability is truly astounding. She is a replica of his Rey in every way.

  
“Shall…Shall I come back tomorrow?” She pauses by the door.

  
“No. The credits for tonight have already been transferred to your account.” She nods and makes to step through the door.

  
“Wait.” She turns to look back at him and it’s Rey, it’s Rey looking back at him, the pity on her face as stark as the pity he’d felt in his head.

  
“You can’t leave looking like her.” The girl stares at him for a long moment, and then her features shift before his eyes. Her irises change color, amber to endless blue, her lips get fuller and her face longer. The hair turns golden, and then she’s no longer Rey. He’s facing a blonde goddess, a beautiful stranger, an expensive whore--but the pity on her face is the same.

  
“Goodbye, Lord Ren.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first work in quite a while, and in this fandom. I've been reading lots of Reylo fics (some VERY talented authors here) and as many of you can relate to, I'm utter trash for this pairing and quite happy in the garbage dump. Comments are always welcome; good, bad, or indifferent, it is so nice to know I"m not the only one reading my humble scribbling!


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